


A Fallout Kinktober

by Shellbacker



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Kinktober, Multi, No editing we die like mne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-07 17:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12237660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shellbacker/pseuds/Shellbacker
Summary: 1 - M!SS/Piper Wright (Spanking)2 - Cait/Scribe Haylen (Public)





	1. Wakey Wakey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one likes sass in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Spanking
> 
> So I set out to write the sleepy sex kink but this is what happened instead ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also, slight spoilers for Story of the Century's 15th chapter if you're reading it.

Despite waking with his limbs tangled, Cullen's eyes cracked open blissfully at the touch of a finger tracing his side. If he had fluttered back to consciousness seated at a buffet table too, it still wouldn't have stopped the grogginess. It flooded him as he sat up with a groan, hands rubbing his eyes which strained against the barrack lamp. The finger that woke him was now two and walked slowly down his back.

“Wakey wakey, Blue,” said a voice behind him. Piper sounded amused. It was unusual, though the circumstances they went to bed last night were... extraordinary.

Cullen looked over his shoulder, pawing a mess of blond hair out of his eyes to see her laying lazily on her side, one arm over her hip, another supporting her head like she was posing for some pre-war pin-up photo shoot. She certainly had the smile for it, nudity aside.

“Our clothes are still wet,” she continued, causing a sigh from her partner.

“That's just peachy,” he said, voice low and hoarse. So, they were sentenced to the sight of each other's bodies for the day.

_Oh, no._

“Find coffee anywhere in this tetanus hazard of a fort?” He turned forward, forcing himself to look at the lamp. It was a mistake. “You're too cheerful at this hour to have not. I don't like it,” he lied.

“Nope,” came Piper's chipper response, “but I'm sure someone as perceptive and thorough as yourself can find a tin in no time.” She could almost hear his eyes roll.

Legs aching from the other day, Cullen pushed himself to his feet, but not before snagging one of Piper's ankles and pulling her over the mattress. “Just for that, you're coming with me.”

“Bluuue,” she wailed. “I don't wanna get up!”

After very little struggle, Piper was hoisted over Cullen's shoulder. The view became tiring immediately upon leaving the bedroom. She dug an elbow into the back of his shoulder and poised her chin atop her hand, hoping it would make him uncomfortable enough to let her down. Piper could kick herself out of it, but he was right about the tetanus. There was trash, debris, and dust strewn about _everywhere_ and right now, their only protection was a couple pairs of sandals. For the moment, Piper and Cullen were the only two clean things in the entire facility.

“Alright, you've made your point. Let me down,” Piper sighed. “I'm a big girl and I don't need you to carry me.”

Her boredom and acute frustration were shattered when a palm struck her rear. The smack echoed down the hall, as did her yelp. Now a confused mix of spite, embarrassment, and arousal accompanied the heat that washed over her. Piper struggled to find words and she hated it. Several moments passed before Cullen chuckled.

“Something wrong?” he asked, a grin stretching his cheeks as far as they'd go. “Maybe this'll help.”

He spanked her again.

Piper gasped sharply and soon failed to fight off a shudder. Still no thoughts formed, but she cursed. Cullen chuckled again as they entered the mess hall. Piper tensed at the touch of his fingers grazing her folds which only amplified her shock. Dammit, she was getting wet.

“What do you know. Piper Wright, Champion of Truth, likes being spanked too.”

He let her down in the kitchen and she was quick to swat his arm away, avoiding his gaze. Cheeks warm, she spotted the faded yellow tin in a doorless cupboard above the counter and grabbed it. Regaining some composure, she finally glared at him and thrust the coffee at his bare chest

“And if you like having hands, you won't speak a word of it to anyone.”

He laughed, those beautiful damned dimples of his flaring. “Don't worry. I'll keep it off the record.”

 


	2. Post-Fight Footsie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery meal-time will never be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Public
> 
> A little late, but there ya go!

A steaming bowl of iguana bit hash slid in front of Haylen. It looked just about as good as it smelled: charred and all around unappetizing.

“Only best for Brotherhood! Hmm, that's catchy. Anyway, enjoy! I be back later to –”

“Yeah, thanks a million, barkeep.” Cait waved Vadim away, but not before he glared at her for a moment. He tried to take her order a few minutes ago, but she assured him that she'd be eating elsewhere. The sideways glance at Haylen was for added effect, but she wasn't entirely lying.

The scribe held a pack of ice to her neck, looking across the table to Cait, who sat off-centre, a leg up on the corner of the table and an arm over the back rest. It was a nice enough day to warrant a patio seat. Many others thought so too. The Dugout Inn was packed. However, it was still chilly enough for Haylen to opt for a sweatshirt and lightweight cargo pants as her choice off-duty attire.

Cait was always in that brown leather corset, lighter brown pants, and those eye-catching knuckle studded gloves. Haylen swore that was the only getup she owned. Hell, maybe she didn't even feel the cold either. Cold blooded pit fighters are an odd bunch.

“Do I really have to eat this?” the scribe asked of the hash Cait recommended. “Smells like overcooked ass.” She'd almost prefer wolfing down one of the Brotherhood's MRE packages.

Cait finally sat properly and eyed the red haired scribe incredulously, tapping her fingers on the table. “I don't care. It's your bill, but that bowl's got all the good stuff y'need after a fight. Y'know, if all ye're gonna do is complain about it, I'll eat it.”

Haylen tucked the bowl in her elbow and pulled away from Cait's reach. “I think you've done enough damage. You're not robbing me of a hot meal too.”

“Aw, what's the matter? This little lass hit ye too hard?” The teasing was annoying, but it was nothing Haylen wasn't used to at the Police Station or the Prydwen. Rhys made short work of hardening her to verbal abuse. But as Cait leaned back again and resumed her leg-up, arm-back position, Haylen's eyes fell muscles' movement beneath her pale skin. That mischievous grin brought it together.

“Sparring partners... don't usually fight so dirty,” Haylen managed to say. Cait's eyes rolled.

“This about the punch to the gut or the kick to the groin?”

“You forgot about the hair pulling.”

Cait laughed, her whole body moving with the noise. Haylen fought back a smile as she watched her. Heat began to rise in her throat. Taking a bite of the hash didn't make it better, though the meat and tato dish wasn't bad at all.

“How 'bout I make it up to ya?”

Haylen jumped at a sudden pressure between her thighs. It persisted when she landed. The scribe managed to stifle a groan that would've alerted everyone on the patio. Her face was suddenly red and Cait grinned.

“What are you doing?!” Haylen hissed, then flinched at what was likely a toe grazing her folds' peak. “Did you take your boot off?”

“Think I haven't noticed the way you look at me?” She flexed her foot again to see Haylen's eyes shut tight, a hand covering her mouth. “So easy to distract in a fight. What a wonder leaving a shirt button or two _accidentally_ undone can do, hmm?”

Haylen sighed into her hand, shaking her head. She should've known. A couple toes traced the length of her slit through the thin material. It was already tender from a dirty blow Cait landed there. The pain drowned in a confusing mixture of pleasure and relief.

“By all means,” the pit fighter continued, “you want me to stop, just say so.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Haylen spotted Vadim approaching. Before Cait could point that out, she already had a spoonful of hash in her mouth. A quick poking with the utensil made it look like she put a sizable dent in the bowl.

“Hello, my friends!” Good God, he was looking right at her. A toe flicked her hood again, nearly forcing a cry from her throat. How the hell was she so good at that? “Everything okay here? How is hash? Do I need to send it back?”

“No!” Haylen blurted out, covering her mouth again. “It's _fine._ So good!”

“Knew you'd like it! And you, miss Cait?” _Finally,_ he turned away, though his eyes lingered on Haylen, whose face was red and struggling against each jolt of ecstasy.

“Y'don't listen very well, do ya, Vadim?” Cait held his attention for a few more seconds, rubbing circles in Haylen's mound with the palm of her foot. She heard the faintest moans coming from behind the scribe's hand. “But I'll take a whiskey, now that I think about it.”

As soon as the barman was out of earshot, Haylen released a breath, her eyes still shut, hand over her mouth. She didn't bother to hold the ice pack in place anymore. Her thighs tightened around Cait's calf as the coil inside reached its limit.

“Higher,” she mumbled, short of breath.

“What's that, love?”

“Toe. _Higher._ ”

Haylen shifted and dug a hand down the front of her pants to spread her folds wider. She couldn't take it anymore. The fear that someone might catch on, the incessant teasing. She wanted it to end, but she wanted to finish. This kind of R&R was so rare on her leave. Even if she just picked up and left after coming, it'd be worth it. She just want wanted this – _needed_ this. Just... a little... more.

Exposed as much as it could be, Haylen leaned her clit into Cait's touch. For some reason unbeknownst to her, she opened her eyes and looked at everyone enjoying their own meals and drinks as she came – completely oblivious. Her body contracted, bending her partially over the table. With her eyes shut and mouth covered once more, maybe it looked like she was crying to other patrons. Maybe she was. All she knew was that a breath that caught in her throat while fire shot relentlessly through her.

Cait was satisfied with herself, waiting for the scribe's grip on her calf to lessen. Vadim took long enough for Haylen to come down before he placed the glass in front of Cait. He eyed them curiously, took Cait's caps, and left again without a word. Limp against the seat, Haylen bent over her hash and took another bite. She chewed much slower than before, controlling her breath which was no doubt wanting to go faster. A thin sheen of sweat marked her brow as she looked up from her meal. Cait was still grinning, and she looked away.

“Have enough for a room?” she asked.

“Dunno why you'd think that,” Cait responded. “Just spent what I had on booze. I think I earned as much.”

Haylen nodded, a smile tugging at her lip. Guess she'll have to take the hash to-go.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed these little chapters. I obv meant to write way more prompts for the month but the life just wasn't there and smut's the one thing I won't post half-assed. Y'all ever been attracted to half an ass? Smut just can't roll that way


End file.
